The Lost Years
by nekoswimmer
Summary: We all know Jak was wrongfully imprisoned and experimented on, but what else did our hero have to endure during those two years? Rating may change.
1. Day 1

Day 1

The first thing that Jak noticed was the head-splitting migraine. It ached horribly and made his thoughts fuzzy and he couldn't focus on any particular idea. He tried to remember what had just happened; it was something important, but the migraine made his brain sluggish.

Then came the smell. It was a putrid stench; the air stank of filthy surroundings, unwashed bodies, disease, and death. Jak's eyes flew open and he bolted upright at the fetid smell, causing his head to throb all the more. But the headache was soon forgotten when Jak took in his surroundings. His mind was still felt foggy, but he saw every detail with acute vision. He was in a dirty, cramped space that was occupied by himself and four other men. Their faces were withdrawn and haggard; their flesh was grey from either the greenish lighting or their poor health, or possibly both. Jak noticed the opening to the tiny room was lined with metal bars, making it a prison cell. The horrid smell came from his cellmates. They wore prison outfits that Jak assumed would have been identical were it not for the various tatters and stains that covered them. The men were greasy and ill-looking, and their sad expressions only added to their overall pathetic appearance.

The cell itself was absolutely disgusting; its stone structure was clearly as uncared for as its inhabitants were. Jak peered out through the bars of his cell only to discover a dark, cavernous prison. It had hundreds upon hundreds of cells that lined the walls. Both the ceiling and the floor were so far away that both eventually receded into darkness, concealing more cells and prisoners. But the most frightening fixture was the small platform that rose up from the depths of the shadow-veiled floor. On the platform was a single metal chair that had arm and leg restraints. Hovering just above the awful chair was some kind of large machinery with sharp pincers; Jak could only guess it was some kind of torture device. He felt his stomach knot with fear at the sight. He leaned against the wall farthest away from the chair, but he could still see it. It seemed as if all of the cells had been built in view of the torture chair, as if to say, "There is no escape."

Jak closed his eyes, and tried to recall how he had gotten in this nightmare. He, Daxter, Keira, and Samos had just finished reconstructing the Precursor Rift Gate back in Sandover Village. They had all gathered on the Rift Rider, ready to start the machine. Jak remembered Keira's excited face, and how her expression had made him so happy and eager to discover just what the Rift Gate's purpose was. It was the last good memory he would have in a long time.

What happened next was a blur: the Rift Gate opened a portal where an enormous, hideous beast appeared. The great monster roared as dozens of small, winged beasts flew in droves into the village. The monster's terrible, booming voice echoed around Jak's mind. He remembered its words: "_You cannot hide from me, boy." _ And then suddenly the Rift Rider shot them towards the monster and into the portal, where he and Daxter were separated from Keira and Samos. Samos had called out, "Find yourself, Jak!" just as a strange light enveloped everything.

The next thing that Jak could recall was dark, imposing buildings. He had never seen anything like them; he obviously wasn't in Sandover Village anymore. Red-clad warriors had then quickly approached Jak and Daxter, wielding strange weapons. Daxter fled and one of the men spoke. "Forget the rat, the Baron wants _him." _

Jak couldn't fathom as to why these strange men were looking for him. He felt so disoriented; he had never seen a city before and these warriors looked so daunting and unfamiliar. The man who had spoken earlier now directed his attention towards Jak, and said with a menacing smirk, "We've been waiting for you." And then Jak was pushed into darkness, with only Daxter's voice promising, "Don't worry, Jak! I'll save ya before ya know it!"

Jak's eyes opened, ending his reverie at the sound of heavy footsteps. The man from earlier stopped in front of his cell, and his mouth curled into a devilish grin. He was rather short, with cropped hair that was an ugly shade of orange. The men in Jak's cell cowered at the sight of the man.

"Well, Jak, how are you enjoying your new home? I hope it fits your high standards." The man laughed cruelly for a moment at his joke, and then focused his cold eyes once again on his prisoner. "I am Erol. I serve his Majesty Baron Praxis. Your duty under the Baron is to forget who you are. You are nothing here but a mere experiment. Forget where you came from and what you once knew. It means absolutely nothing here."

His words felt like a punch in the gut. Forget who he was? Experiment? Just who did this Erol person think he was? Jak threw himself against the metal bars and growled at Erol in a burst of fury. "Ooh, how scary." Erol looked amused at Jak's outburst. "A little boy who doesn't use his words won't get very far in life." He made a _tsk tsk _sound and waved his index finger back and forth as if scolding a child.

Erol then made a signaling motion and one of the red-clad warriors came over, holding a rod with prongs on one end. The prongs began to crackle as electricity sprung from their tips. The warrior stuck the prongs through the bars and made contact with the skin on Jak's arm. It made a horrible sizzling noise, and a fast, burning pain shot through his entire body. Jak yelped and jumped backwards to get away, and hit the opposite wall. The warrior retracted the prongs and Erol began to laugh again.

"That will teach you to use better manners. Remember that when you are in the presence of the Baron." He began to walk away when he added as an afterthought, "And you may want to extend the same courtesy to the Krimzon Guards as well. They serve the Baron as I do. They may be a little trigger happy with punks such as yourself." He gestured to the red warrior to follow him and both men finally left.

Jak gently rubbed his arm where it had been shocked. An angry red welt the size of his fist was starting to develop. One of his fellow inmates made a sympathetic mumble. "The Guards shocked me so much my first week that I developed a habit of havin' seizures." Jak had many questions for the prisoners. Where exactly was he? Why was he here? Who was this Baron Praxis? Why did Erol and the Krimzon Guards want to torment him? But he still found he could not speak. He had tried many times when he was younger, but eventually had given up. He wasn't stupid; it was just something he wasn't particularly good at.

Later that day, a Guard came by the cell and tossed Jak some scratchy prison garb. "You are to wear that at all times. Do you understand?" The Guard's voice sounded tinny, like he had spoken into in aluminum can. Jak nodded in response and began putting on his new attire.

"You're now as stylish as the rest of us," one of the cellmates said without humor.

"Silence," the Guard pointed his electric rod at the prisoner.

The rest of the day passed in silence. There were no windows that Jak could see, so he didn't know what time it was. He felt his stomach rumble with hunger and his throat was so dry. Jak got the attention of one of the men in his cell and pantomimed eating food and drinking a glass of water. The man smiled grimly and said wearily, "Son, you'd better get used to eating on the Guard's schedule. Sometimes we'll go days without food or something to drink. When they do give us something, make sure to only eat about half of it and then ration the other half to last the next couple of days."

Jak was stunned. He was only a poor villager, but he had never once gone hungry. Samos had always made sure to provide him with food, although it was only vegetarian-style. He and Daxter would usually have had to go catch their own meat.

Suddenly, a thunderous, stomping noise droned out any other sounds. It was the sound of about a dozen Krimson Guards approaching. Jak's cellmates obviously knew what was happening; their faces contorted into wild fear and they cowered in the furthest corner of the filthy cell. One of them began muttering feverishly under his breath, "Please not us, please not us, _please not us."_

The Guards stopped directly in front of Jak's cell, and the men inside began to wail and moan as if they were dying. The cell was opened and all of its occupants, save for Jak, were dragged out. They resisted, clawing and kicking, and their screams were too much.

"No! Don't let them take us! Please!" One man clung to Jak's sleeve until a Krimzon Guard began to beat him with his rod. Jak felt numb with horror; he couldn't even feel the tears stream down his face. The four men were taken away, but their anguished cries rang out for what felt like centuries. Jak did not know where they had been taken. It was the last time he saw them.


	2. A Rebel

Jak awoke with a start. It had been three days since the men had been taken from his cell, and he had hardly seen a soul since then. The screams of the terrified prisoners still echoed in his mind; his head felt cramped and ready to burst. He had been allowed of a few sips of water, but no food. He had begun to smell and he hated the filth surrounding him. What had happened to Keira and Samos? The thought of dear, sweet Keira, so strong and beautiful, and stuck in a rotting cell made him want to bash his fists against the wall. He also worried for Daxter, but for some unexplainable reason felt that his friend was okay.

The sound of nearby footsteps made his heartbeat quicken. Was he to be taken away? Would he meet the same unknown fate as his previous cellmates? Two Krimzon Guards appeared, along with two other men dressed in prisoner garb. The Guards pushed the men into Jak's cell and left without saying a word.

"Lovely place to stay, eh?" One of the men said. The speaker had the most interesting hair color Jak had ever seen. It was a deep bright red color. The man's long hair was fashioned into dreadlocks, and those were tied back into one thick ponytail. He had multiple piercings in his ears and eyebrows, and several tattoos. He was about a head taller than Jak and had piercing blue eyes. Jak guessed he had to have been in his mid to late twenties.

"Name's Beeker," The man extended his hand in greeting. Jak felt relief at finally meeting a decent person, but was frustrated with his lack of words. He shook Beeker's hand, and then used his finger to write the Precursor symbols of his name in the air. Beeker watched intently and then said, "Jak, is it?" Jak nodded, pleased he had understood.

"Why do you bother learnin' names? We're gonna die here, Beeker, and it's all your damn fault," the other prisoner said gruffly. He was older with graying hair and a pudgy middle section.

"Never mind old Gus over there. He's always been that way." Beeker said nonchalantly, as if he wasn't just imprisoned in maximum security. "So, what are you here for Jak?" Jak shrugged, feeling helpless. He still had no idea what his purpose was in this stinking pit.

"And there's _another_ reason to fight against that bastard who calls himself our leader," Beeker said, looking pointedly at Gus, as if trying to persuade him.

"I know he's a bad man! You don't have to tell me!" Gus said angrily.

Beeker turned to Jak. "You see, Gus and I are here because we're a part of the Underground. It's a resistance group that fights against Baron Praxis. You do know who the Baron is, don't you?" Jak shook his head. Beeker sighed. "Out of town, huh? Well, we-" Beeker spread his arms wide, as if referring to the entire prison and the unseen outside world- "are living in Haven City, a land plagued by all manner of monsters and a corrupt society with an even more corrupt ruler."

Beeker spent the rest of the day and well into the evening regaling Jak with the horrors of Baron Praxis, the Krimzon Guards, and the Underground movement that did everything in its power to stop them. Then Beeker finally said something that terrified Jak. "You see, the Metal Heads are getting stronger every day and the Baron's been itching to get his hands on a new weapon. His scientists think they have a solution, but they need test subjects. This prison here is an excellent resource, and prisoners disappear daily for experimentation." Beeker paused to gauge Jak's reaction. He looked halfway between horrified and incredulous.

"How do I know all this, you ask? Well, for one thing, I used to be a prisoner here a while back because of Underground activity. But I escaped when there was a Metal Head breach of the city and security got loose around here. And between you and me-" Beeker urged Jak to come closer, as if sharing a secret- "I took that opportunity to steal some official documents that were titled "The Dark Warrior Program." And the secret ingredient that's being used to make these 'warriors' is…Dark Eco."

Jak gasped. Dark Eco? They were using it on people to make them into human weapons?

Beeker continued. "I got outta here before they used any on me, but from what I've heard, it kills most of the human guinea pigs on first contact. Even if it doesn't kill them at first, later dosages will eventually do the job."

Jak wanted to ask, "Then why are they still using it?" But his voice refused to work.

Beeker saw his confusion and guessed what he wanted to know. "Sounds pretty dumb to continue with a lost cause, right? Well, it's not a lost cause just yet. You see, Praxis has been doing research. Apparently, the only person who can become his 'ultimate weapon' is someone who is 'pure.' It has to be someone who selflessly saved the world in a time of crisis and has some serious eco-channeling skills. The Oracle proclaimed that 'This hero rescued this planet many years past, but will soon be known across time. He shall be known in this time.'" Beeker seemed pleased with his recitation.

Gus snorted over in the corner. "He's obsessed with this crap, he even found the Oracle in the river slums and kept asking it questions over and over again. How did I let you drag me into this? It's a load of bull."

"It's not, Gus," Beeker snapped, suddenly serious. "If what the Oracle said is true, then Praxis knows how to find this 'hero' and destroy him in his mad quest for power over the Metal Heads. People are expendable to that bastard. It's the most inhumane thing the Baron has done."

Jak suddenly felt very faint with all of this heavy information; his vision became dark, and he felt his head hit the floor. People were being purposely twisted with Dark Eco? And since he was this 'hero,' was he to be fused with Dark Eco? Jak knew all too well what could happen. He wouldn't be like Daxter, he would be something sinister; he would lose himself.

He heard Beeker calling out, "Hey, you bloody Guards! Get this kid some food now!" Jak felt someone sitting him upright and pressing something that smelled like bread in his face. He opened his eyes to find that it was indeed bread, albeit moldy. He scarfed it down like a wild animal, his hunger making him savage. "Poor kid," he heard Beeker mutter to Gus. "Don't they have any morals in this damned city?" Jak soon fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Keira's smile and Daxter's laughter.


	3. Cruelty

**Thank you very much to those who reviewed! I have a longer chapter this time…**

**...  
**

The next day Jak's cell and several others were opened. The prisoners were ordered to file out and stand in a line. There were about twenty of them, each one looking more broken and hopeless than the one before him. Jak nudged Beeker in a silent question of, "What's going on?"

"Looks like they want to roughen us up a bit," Beeker replied grimly. The line of prisoners faced three large Krimzon Guards. Jak couldn't see their faces because of the masks they wore, but just knew that they were all wearing smug grins.

"The Baron's given us orders to make sure you all don't get out of line," One of the Guards said. "He feels that without a constant reminder, you rats will forget your place." Many of the men grimaced, but all Jak could do was stand there. He had an idea of what the Guards would do, but it was too awful to dwell on.

One of the Guards pointed to one of the prisoners; he was by far the youngest inmate of the bunch at around fourteen years old. The boy was whimpering uncontrollably. "What're you looking at, boy? Don't like what you see?" The Guard, quick as lightning, punched the boy as hard as he could in the stomach.

The boy cried out and fell to his knees, gasping for air. Jak began to step out of line to interfere, but Gus held him back. "There's nothing you can do for him," he said. Beeker gritted his teeth but stayed silent. The Krimzon Guard leaned over the panting boy and put a hand to his own ear. "What's that? I can't hear you."

"Maybe you should speak louder, boy." Another of the Guards came over and kicked the boy to the ground. The boy's head made a sickening sound as it connected with the floor. The Guards laughed cruelly and each one took turns kicking the poor boy.

"Enough!" Beeker suddenly shouted. The Guards went silent and stopped their attacks. The only sound that was heard in the tense air was the bloodied boy, gasping for breath. Jak had never seen anyone so infuriated. Beeker's teeth were gritted tightly together like a savage animal's and his face was a deep red that rivaled his hair. He shook with rage and clamped his hands into fists.

"If you want to mess with us, pick on someone who can take it. Don't take it out on the damn kid." Beeker roared.

The Guards wasted no time. All three were on him in an instant, punching and kicking the man brutally. Beeker fought back, throwing his punches wildly but still somehow connecting with the Guards successfully. He even resorted to biting them with his unusually sharp teeth. Eventually, one of the Guards took out an electric rod, but before he could shock Beeker, Jak jumped on him and began pummeling away. The Guard, who was much bigger, threw him off easily. He towered over Jak, and pointed the electric-charged prongs at him. The Guard drew back the arm holding the rod, and was ready to strike when –

"Stop!" cried a booming voice.

Immediately, the Guards and prisoners formed a neat line as if nothing out of the ordinary had been going on. Even the young fourteen year-old stood, his back ramrod straight. Beeker sat on the ground, gasping and with a bruise forming under his left eye. His prison shirt was ripped open, and a steady stream of blood pooled from his lower lip. Jak slowly stood and walked over to Beeker and helped him stand up. Jak felt his new friend barely suppress a groan of pain.

The owner of the booming voice came into view. He was a large man dressed in shining gray armor and a flowing red cape. The right side of his head and face was covered with a sort of metal helmet, concealing what Jak guessed was an injury. His boots had ugly spikes on the toes; just looking at them made Jak cringe at the thought of them being used on someone. The stranger also carried a sword that was held in a conservative scabbard. The man's mere presence set off tension in the room; Jak could sense the fear emanating from everyone present, even the Guards. The intimidating man walked over to the prisoners, his massive boots making a steady thudding sound. He stopped directly in front of Jak, who was still supporting Beeker. Jak noticed the crest on the man's breastplate; it was a strange insignia that resembled a scowl.

Beeker muttered under his breath, so low Jak could hardly hear him, "Well if it ain't the bastard himself, come to spit in our faces."

"You must be Jak," The man peered down at Jak with his good eye. "I've been waiting a long time for you, boy. I am Baron Praxis." Beeker looked at Jak with obvious shock.

"You're…him?" Beeker whispered, but nobody heard him.

The Baron turned abruptly to the three Krimzon Guards and gestured to Jak. "You may do whatever you like to this prisoner, but stop just short of killing him." The Baron stepped closer to the Guards, suddenly threatening. He growled, "If you allow him to die, there will be dire consequences. No special treatment, but if he dies, then there will be hell to pay. Am I being perfectly clear?"

The Guards nodded their heads rapidly. "Yes, sir, Baron Praxis. No special treatment and minimal damage," they replied robotically.

The Baron turned and began to walk away, as if bored, and said, "Oh, you can damage him all you like. As long as you don't kill him, he can be your punching bag for all I care." This comment was somehow very funny to the Baron, as the last thing the prisoners heard of him was the sound of his guttural laughter. A metal door slammed shut from somewhere unseen, signaling the Baron's departure. Jak gulped audibly while Beeker still stared at him with poorly concealed horror.

"Alright, boys," one of the Guards spoke to his comrades. "Let's have some fun." The other two cracked their knuckles in response.

**...**

That night Jak couldn't sleep. He ached everywhere but was certain no bones had been broken. He had fought back against the Guards for as long as he could, but eventually had tired out and just laid there as the they beat him mercilessly. After the Guards were finished with the prisoners, they had locked them back into their cells and let them collapse in peace. Jak wondered briefly why only he and Beeker had fought against their attackers. The other unfortunate prisoners had allowed themselves to be knocked around without putting up a fight. But the looks on their faces said it all: they had given up long ago.

Jak considered himself lucky he hadn't been destroyed beyond repair, but he couldn't say the same for the others. The fourteen year-old boy from earlier had been beaten unconscious, and another man had his arm broken. The man in the cell next to Jak's had been moaning for the last hour, and although Jak felt sorry for him, he wanted to tell him to shut up.

Beeker finally croaked for the floor of the cell, "Will you just shut your damn mouth, already? My ribs are killin' me but you don't hear me complainin'."

"You just did," Gus wheezed.

"Shut up," Beeker replied. "You alright over there, Jak?" Jak nodded his head, but didn't know if Beeker saw it in the dim lighting. The Guards always dimmed the lights at a certain time, which one could only assume was when it was nighttime. "Tha's good," Beeker's voice was faint. He had taken the most damage, but Jak could not see him well enough to know the full extent of it. "You know, it's times like these when I wish my brother was here to see all this injustice." Jak scooted closer to Beeker, despite the pain that came with moving. He liked listening to Beeker talk; it was the only pleasant voice in the entire prison.

"My little brother joined up with the Krimson Guard a few months ago…knowin' that I despised the Baron and worked for…for the Underground." Beeker's voice became breathy as he struggled to remain conscious. Jak leaned in closer to hear him. "He got these god-awful tattoos on his face, the kind those damn bloody Guards get…and he let them give him a new name. All the Guards…get new names when they're…initiated into their little club." Beeker made a disgusted sound. "Now he covers…his red hair with that stupid helmet and carries a gun. Can you believe that? They just handed…my little brother a gun, no questions asked." Beeker choked on the words.

"Beeker, enough. Get some rest. You too, kid," Gus ordered quietly. Jak laid on the floor of the cell, and tried not to focus on the freezing, dirty stones beneath him. He bit back a yelp as he felt a kanga-rat skitter over his foot and shut his eyes, as if the action would take him away from this nightmare.

**...**

That night he dreamed he was in Sandover Village. The green sun shone warmly from the clear blue sky, but something made Jak uneasy. A dark, brooding presence passed over him. He walked over to the fountain near the bridge to Samos's hut and was about to splash water in his face when he saw his reflection.

The image was terrifying; it was Jak, but his skin was an icy blue as if he had been frozen. His hair was a dark gray, and wicked-looking black horns protruded from his head. But the most startling feature was his eyes; they were two deep black, shining pits that stared ominously back at him. The image's eyes narrowed menacingly at Jak. The reflection then shimmered as a cold wind blew past and Jak tore his face away from the haunting image.

Sandover Village had literally begun to disintegrate into dust, leaving blank nothingness in its stead. Every single hut, rock, bridge, and plant withered away and floated off with the breeze. Jak felt panic explode inside him. He could only watch as his life collapsed before him. Jak felt screams claw their way up his throat and out into the dead air, where they became so loud that it hurt.

He then felt himself being roughly shaken. "Jak? Jak!" yelled a familiar voice. Jak's eyes flew open, releasing him from his nightmare. He found himself staring into Beeker's concerned face. "Finally. I was getting' worried there. You were shoutin' and thrashing around so much that you nearly hurt yourself. Talk about a bad dream."

Jak sat up slowly. It was…only a dream. He almost sighed with relief, but something about that dream felt more like a premonition than fantasy. He glanced around warily, feeling paranoia prick in the back of his mind.

**...**

**I absolutely adore Beeker, although it might be because he's a character of my own creation. He's sort of like the mentor/older brother figure. **

**I also liked giving Dark Jak a bit of a cameo here. He shows up in a later dream, too, and that was even more fun to write. There's just something so thrilling writing about such an insane, wild character. **


	4. A Bittersweet Meal

**I'm updating twice in one day because I'll be out of town for a few days. This one is short, but has oodles of suspense...or at least a cliffhanger. Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog.  
**

**...  
**

The next several days passed uneventfully, and Jak eventually put the dream in the back of his mind to sift through later. Gus suspected that one or possibly more of Beeker's ribs had been broken with his struggle against the Guards, and forced him to stay still for most of the time.

"Being shoved in this closet all the time is gonna make me go crazy," Beeker said one day. "I hate this bleedin' cell, it stinks like an armpit."

Jak couldn't agree more. He was used to freedom, and longed for the salty sea air and soft sand beneath his feet that he had always known. Two Krimzon Guards stopped by their cell, and Jak's muscles tightened in anticipation. One of them was wheeling a cart that was heaped with food. The other Guard opened the cell and began to set plates of the food and glasses filled with water on the ground.

Jak's mouth began to water; he hadn't had a decent meal in what seemed forever. The food didn't look half bad, either. There was a bit of turkey, a hunk of pork, several varieties of fruits and vegetables, a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.

The Guard then closed the cell and said, "Eat up, chums." He and his partner then walked away, but not before Jak heard them snicker.

Jak immediately grabbed the pork and started ripping off chunks. He handed a portion to Beeker, then to Gus, and then bit into his share. It was a bit old, and the taste was bland, but to the starving prisoner it was the most succulent and delicious meat he had ever tasted. Jak gulped down the pork and then glanced at Beeker and Gus. Both were sharing a sickened look between them. Jak forgot his hunger and questioned them with a look. Gus reluctantly bit off a small piece of pork, chewed slowly, and then swallowed like it pained him. Jak turned to Beeker, confused.

"This is the best food they've given us," Beeker stated the obvious. He was staring at his piece of pork in a way that bordered on horrified. Jak prodded Beeker in the shoulder. What was up with them?

Beeker finally turned to Jak as if in a trance. His eyes looked haunted and far away. It scared Jak because Beeker had always been confident. Now he looked just as lost and downtrodden as the rest of them. "They're feedin' us this so we'll build up our strength. They only do that when…" Beeker trailed off and suddenly threw his pork against the wall so hard that it left an ugly stain. He stood, anger and fear written all over him.

"They only do that so we'll survive their goddamned experiments." Beeker spat the words out. Jak felt his stomach churn with nausea. He began to cough, and gripped his stomach as if that would prevent the pork from making a reappearance. Beeker pounded his fists against the cell walls, infuriated.

"Stop that, Beeker! Just eat the damned food. We won't be seeing any more in a long time," Gus shouted. He then bit off a huge chunk of his meat as if to challenge Beeker.

"I can't even look at that food anymore. All it'll do is make me sick," Beeker whispered, defeated. He sat down in a slump and looked wearily at Jak. "You gotta survive, kid. You just have to. Don't let them kill you."

Jak was taken aback. It seemed as if Beeker knew something. It was almost as if he was saying goodbye.

**...**

**Oooo...what's gonna happen? When I was writing I was thinking the same thing, although I already knew of course. Honestly, as I write this I keep behaving like I'm the reader instead. The next chapter is when I really flipped out while I was writing it.**

**Dark Eco makes its debut next chapter...you may hate me. **

**Reviews are welcomed!  
**


	5. Experiment

**I'm back! Here is the chapter I had sitting in my head for ages. Jak and Daxter is property of Naughty Dog.  
**

The next morning came too soon. The air was thick and weighed heavily upon Jak. His lungs felt shriveled, as if they weren't getting enough air; his breathing was shallow with anxiety. Beeker patted him on the back. "You'll get through this," he said like it was a promise.

Jak wanted to ask, "What about you?"

The Guards came about an hour later. The cell's door made a terrible screech as the metal bars were dragged along the ground. All three prisoners were taken from the cell and were ordered in a straight line. Jak was shaking, but he tried to focus on Beeker's calming presence just behind him. The red-haired man's emotions were in check today; the set line of his mouth betrayed no fear. Gus was the last, and awaited his fate patiently. The three were led to the center platform, where the chair sat, dark and ominous. Erol stood nearby, along with the Baron who had an almost proud expression on his face. A man in a white lab coat stood by the chair, fiddling with the machine that loomed over the chair.

Two Krimzon Guards suddenly gripped each of Jak's forearms and led him to the chair. He was pushed into it and the Guards secured the restraints on his wrists and ankles. The cold metal bit into his skin. Sheer terror shot through Jak, and he felt the uncontrolled panic rise within him. He began to hyperventilate and tried to find Beeker with his eyes. Beeker saw his fear and stepped forward only to be held back by a Guard.

Beeker snarled furiously, "Let me stand by him."

"You'll get your chance. Be patient," the Guard responded smugly. Beeker lunged at him but more Guards were on him in an instant. The Baron stepped up to the platform, ignoring the outburst. He gazed down at Jak, obviously excited.

He turned to the man in the lab coat. "He's the one, correct?"

The man nodded. "I assure you that my science never fails. He will be the modern era's greatest accomplishment, a warrior fully capable of channeling Dark Eco without dying, wearing out, or becoming a wild beast. He will serve under you, Baron Praxis, a testament and achievement of the Dark Warrior Program."

"Then let us begin," the Baron replied, looking almost giddy.

The scientist turned to a machine that contained various blinking buttons and wires. He pressed a few buttons and turned a few knobs. Whirling and clicking noises followed instantly as the evil device came to life. The distant sound of rushing liquid came soon after, and Jak clenched his teeth, knowing full well what was making that sound. The horrid sound came closer and closer through the pipes in the ceiling, and the machine above him rattled. Jak could only stare as the metal pinchers above him started to slowly rotate.

A mechanical female voice announced, _" All systems online. Dark Eco ready to deploy." _

The scientist pushed one last button, and the pinchers began to spin faster and faster. A crackling, electrical buzz rang out, and a dark violet glow appeared on the tips of the deadly claws. Jak squeezed his eyes shut.

A quick, searing hot electricity scorched its way through his skin. Jak yelled aloud; he felt like he was on fire! It was as if molten lava was being poured onto his bones, his lungs; every single fibre of his being went unscathed. It kept spreading and spreading until it formed into a solid, scalding iron weight that was clamping down on his chest. It was so heavy, so enormous that Jak felt that it was crushing him. His lungs felt paper thin and he was certain his speeding heart would burst. His heart felt like it was getting bigger every second, and the quickening _BA-BUMP-BA-BUMP-BA-BUMP _clamor echoed loudly in his ears.

His head was roiling in pain; it felt like it was getting larger, too. The heat was expanding his brain so much it was sure to implode. Jak jerked about and screamed, trying to get away, trying desperately and in vain to find help. The restraints would not give way despite his writhing, and the metal was burning his ankles and wrists. His vision went black from the pain, but he was still conscious.

He could still feel the Eco coursing through him, but it was beginning to turn cold at a rapid pace. It froze all of the magma and turned his bones brittle and frail. The effect was that Jak's bones felt ready to snap; He could feel every single chip and break. Jak could not remember what warmth felt like.

Once again, he could not breathe as the horrid cold seeped into his throat, his lungs. Every cell felt the frigid ice; it was so painfully cold that it was as if daggers were being twisted into his flesh. Jak screamed aloud again when he felt his bones shatter, seemingly in a million pieces. He envisioned the shards exploding from his skin and could not stop shouting from the pain and horror. Unconsciousness came suddenly, and Jak embraced the healing darkness with open arms.

**…**

Beeker felt drained of all feeling. He stared, wide-eyed and numb at the unconscious boy in the chair. He had never heard such agonized, piercing screams. Jak had sounded like a dying animal that someone had been slowly torturing to death.

Beeker felt his eyes prick with tears and gritted his teeth. What was the difference? They had just tortured an innocent child, the so-called 'chosen one.' But to _them, _Jak was just a beast, something to mercilessly kill.

Beeker closed his eyes as the horror of what he had just seen washed over him in waves. He trembled slightly, and he knew he was in shock. He felt Gus put a hand on his shoulder.

"There was nothing you could do," his comrade said softly. Beeker allowed himself to shed a single tear, and then let rage and hatred fill his body. He clenched his fists. He would need his unshakable fury to get through what was going to happen next. Beeker glared vehemently at the Baron, imagining all the violent ways he could kill him.

"Ready?" A Guard asked Beeker, his smirk evident behind his mask.

**…**

Jak was floating in a sea of black. Dark waves continued to crash over his prone body, but he was never dragged under. He couldn't feel anything and wondered briefly if he was dead. He felt at peace with the concept of death; it was better than going back to that prison. He stared up at the pitch-black sky, looking for stars but not seeing a single one. There wasn't even a moon. Jak lifted a hand in front his face. He could just barely see the outline of it.

The sound of something swimming nearby got his attention. A Lurker shark? It came closer until it was right alongside Jak. It was Keira, clear as day. She had a small aura of light emanating from her; the water around her was a deep turquoise, and Jak could make out a strip of beach just behind her off in the distance.

Keira took his hand. "Come on. The hero I know wouldn't give up." She smiled warmly at him and smoothed the hair away from his forehead.

Daxter appeared at her shoulder. "Yeah, who am I gonna get in trouble with if you're gone?"

Jak was filled with the sudden realization of just how much he loved his two friends, and felt tears gather in his eyes at having them near. The happy, wonderful emotion was so strong and overwhelming that he soon allowed the tears to flow freely. He laughed, so grateful that he had the chance to see them again.

"Aw, great, we've made him go all soft and emotional on us, Keira," Daxter joked, but gave Jak a beaming, mischievous grin. Keira helped Jak stand. The waves were calm, and had changed from tar black to a pristine blue. The sand was soft and cool beneath his feet, and the sun glowed in the endless expanse of clear sky.

"We'll meet again one day. I promise," Keira placed a hand on his cheek. Jak closed his eyes, reveling in her touch and the smell of the salty air, and made himself store this moment away to remember in the bad times to come.

**...**

**When I thought of this story, I wondered what exactly Dark Eco would feel like. In the first game, Daxter claims that it stings, but I wanted to go into more depth than that. I figured it had to be pretty awful, considering the first cut scene of Jak II. I had all of those descriptions of it in my mind, and I wanted to write them down before I forgot. **

**I'm a little wary about my description of Dark Eco, because it feels too cruel. But, then again, Baron Praxis was a cruel dude...**

**The Dark Eco didn't really break Jak's bones, it only felt like it. That's another thing I wanted to add to my opinion on Dark Eco: it plays with your head, gives you illusions. But the pain was real; I'll go into it next chapter.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!  
**


	6. A Success

**My longest chapter yet! Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog.**

**...**

When Jak opened his eyes again, his vision was blurred and he was staring at the ceiling of his cell. It was an ugly, washed out green color. He sat up, but a horrible nauseous sensation churned in his stomach. He clamped a hand over his mouth, certain he was about to be sick.

"Here," a weak voice said, and a bucket was pushed towards him. Jak gripped the sides of the bucket as he retched. When he finally felt drained of the bile he sat back against the wall. He realized slowly that he had just been pumped with Dark Eco.

Jak tried to feel some kind of shock or any emotion, but all he felt was heavy and exhausted. He wearily turned his head to look at the owner of the voice. Beeker lay on the floor, shivering. His skin was a ghostly white and his eyes were so bright they almost hurt to look at.

"It was n-nice of 'em to g-give us a bucket so we could p-p-puke out our lungs, eh?" Beeker panted. His trembling was becoming violent. Alarmed, Jak stood as fast as he could without feeling sick and made his way to the cell's entrance. He gazed out of the bars and tried to spot a Guard to get help for Beeker.

The chair looked back at him from its looming perch, and the memories of the torment he had just endured came flooding back. Jak frantically began to check for damage. He fell to the floor in a heap, recalling vividly how his bones had broken. Jak grasped his left arm, feeling the tendons and muscles. It was sore, but no broken bones. He checked his other arm. No breaks, no marks, nothing. He felt his lungs slowly expand with air, and then contract as they released it. His brain and organs obviously had to be intact for him to still be alive, right? Jak felt disoriented. He was absolutely certain that the Dark Eco had completely ravaged his body.

"I k-know. I was confused at f-f-first, too. I was sure my limbs had been sliced off," Beeker said, his teeth chattering. "That s-stuff still d-did hurt us, though. Don't take any d-deep breaths. I did, and it hurt like I had b-b-been s-stabbed."

Jak placed a hand over his own heart. The rhythm sounded strange, offbeat. He tried taking shallow breaths like Beeker had advised. He accidentally took one that was too deep, and he let out a cry of pain. It felt like needles had gone down his throat. He glanced over at Beeker again, who was trying to sit up. His face turned green with nausea, and Jak pushed the bucket towards him.

Jak looked through the bars once more as Beeker vomited. Not a soul was in sight, but the sound of footsteps came closer. Erol came into view along with the scientist that had handled the machine from earlier.

"Hello, Jak. How was your first Dark Eco treatment?" Erol asked, a wicked grin on his face. Jak felt his stomach heave, but he refused to throw up in front of Erol. The Baron then came into view, his hulking presence demanding full attention.

"So, what were the results?" he asked of the scientist.

The scientist beamed, his eyes shining. "His vital signs were by far the best of any I've seen so far. His tolerance for the Eco is off the charts! He is a true marvel of science!" The scientist looked as if he would faint from his excitement.

"Wonderful, now what time will you be ready to work on him tomorrow?" The Baron inquired. Jak almost allowed himself to be sick then and there. Another experiment? He couldn't take it. There was no conceivable way he could live through that torture ever again. He hung his head, reeling with the notion. He heard the scientist speak, but this time his voice was worried.

"Oh, no, Baron Praxis. It is impossible for him to receive another treatment by tomorrow."

"What?" The Baron boomed. Jak could sense the scientist's fear as he responded.

"Your Majesty, with a subject so rare and valuable, it would not be in your best interest to risk another experiment so soon. The subject would most surely be terminated."

"Then when do you propose we do another experiment? We can't waste any more time!"

"Judging by his recovery rate, I'd say that a length of two weeks would be a substantial enough time for the subject to resume experimentation. Even that is cutting it extremely close, Baron Praxis."

The Baron grumbled in annoyance, but reluctantly agreed. "Is there anything that can be done to ensure success until that time?"

"Hmm, well, for starters you could allow him to continue to share his cell with that red-haired prisoner. It would boost his morale and ultimately his survival rate to have a human companion around, so I would suggest keeping his friend there alive for the time being." Jak felt his blood boil at the words. The man spoke as if Beeker's life was expendable, like he didn't matter!

"It would be of paramount importance to feed them regularly to keep up their strength," The scientist continued. "And physical activity every day would help the subject adjust to the experiments. These are all mere suggestions of course. It is entirely up to you to decide," The scientist added the last part nervously.

Jak glared at the Baron. He was rubbing his large chin, determining his prisoners' fates. "Alright, Erol. Make sure you do what the man says," the Baron finally stated.

"As you wish," Erol replied. Before they turned to walk away, Jak gestured wildly towards Beeker, who was still shivering uncontrollably. The Baron stalked off, as if disgusted.

The scientist sighed. "He needs a blanket and some anti-rejection medicine. I do hate to waste expensive supplies, but it's all for a good cause." The scientist and Erol finally left to get the necessary supplies.

Jak hated the man for talking about Beeker like that, but knew his friend needed the medical attention. He sat by Beeker and placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder. Beeker startled at the touch, disoriented. He was obviously getting sick. He looked up warily at Jak and then relaxed. "Thanks for s-sticking up for m-me, kid." His eyes closed, and Jak let him sleep. It was then that Jak noticed Gus was nowhere to be seen.

**...**

The next morning found Jak, Beeker, and a handful of other prisoners in a large, rectangular room. The walls were dark and imposing, and the various pipes in the ceiling made strange gurgling noises. Beeker was looking noticeably better; the scientist had injected him with a foul-smelling fluid the previous evening. Several Guards approached the men, with Erol in the front.

"Alright, you lowly rats," Erol addressed the prisoners, "You may have been told that you are 'valuable' by that quack scientist, and therefore now have an exercise program to help 'benefit your continued success' but don't get any ideas. You are all nothing more than the shit in the sewers. You are expendable and don't expect any special privileges just because you can handle a little Dark Eco."

Erol walked up and down the line of men, glaring at them. He stopped when he reached Jak and an evil glint appeared in his eyes. A serpentine grin slowly contorted his face, the greenish overhead lighting making it look gruesome.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our little star, the single boy who started this whole ordeal. Thanks to you, our budget is being depleted for luxuries like this old exercise room," Erol gestured to the dimly-lit cave they were in. "And it's all because the Baron sees you as useful."

Erol placed a hand on the back of Jak's neck and gripped it tightly. His fingernails dug into the flesh, but Jak didn't wince, not wanting to give Erol the pleasure of seeing his discomfort. Erol leered threateningly, "Don't forget that you are the Baron's tool. He can deal away with you whenever you become obsolete. If I see you getting smug, I'll make sure to it that you learn humility the hard way."

He released Jak and shouted to the prisoners, "Thirty laps around the perimeter! Now!"

Beeker stepped over to Jak. "You okay, kid? That Erol's got a stick up his ass. Well, it's more like an entire tree." Jak had to smile a little at that.

"I guess this was some kind of workout area for the Guards a while ago before they spent a heap of the city's money for a new, state-of the art one," Beeker scoffed, shaking his head. "And ol' Orangie there is bitchin' that they're wasting money on us. Ha! What a load of bull. If only Gus could see us now…" Beeker trailed off, a sad look in his eyes. Jak hung his head, his suspicions about Gus confirmed.

A Guard approached them. "Are you two deaf? Erol said thirty laps!"

**...**

By lap number ten, Jak was panting heavily. Normally, this would have a warm-up for him; he and Daxter had run through the village and across Sentinel Beach every day back home, playing their explorer games. But this was becoming ridiculously exhausting and Jak hated it. He was so accustomed to being in top form from climbing trees, running, and fighting Lurkers that his sluggish pace was making him frustrated. His legs felt like lead, and his head was pounding. He hadn't eaten a proper meal since he had arrived in the prison, and he tossed and turned fitfully every night. And Jak could swear he felt the bit of Dark Eco inside him swishing, mixing with his blood. The thought made him feel lightheaded.

Beeker and the other men weren't faring any better. Several inmates had already collapsed, only to be electrocuted or beaten by the Guards. "Come on, get up you lazy vermin!" They would yell obscenities at the fallen men to get them moving.

One particular man continued to fall, but would always rise again and keep running, despite the blood leaking from his head and the bruises on his body. Every time he fell, the Guards would be on him like flies, beating him until he got back up. He kept going like this for so long that the other prisoners began to cheer breathlessly. His strength gave them courage.

The Guards began to get agitated with their ray of hope, and the next time the man fell, they beat him harder. One Guard slammed his gun viciously into the poor man's head. He did not rise that time. The prisoners went silent, and none could look at his bloodied body when they passed him on their twentieth lap. Jak swallowed the tears threatening to gather, and his throat burned at the effort. Beeker gritted his teeth but pushed on.

Jak felt the sweat pouring off him in waves; it even trickled into his eyes, making it difficult to see. Beeker kept clutching his midsection and grimacing, and Jak remembered his injured ribs. He began to worry; what if his ribs were still hurting or broken? What if they punctured a lung?

Jak slowed down a little, and grabbed Beeker's sleeve, forcing him to do the same. Beeker glanced at Jak questioningly, and saw the look on his face that said, "Don't push yourself too hard."

Beeker grinned and panted, "It doesn't…hurt that bad. Although…I am…getting tired." He exhaled a large breath, and both continued to run at the same pace.

When the thirty laps were finally completed, every single prisoner laid on the floor in a heap, their chests rising and falling heavily from the exertion. Jak's throat was parched.

"Get up!" He heard Erol scream. "Come on, get up now!" Some of the prisoners started to rise slowly, their faces tight with pain. One of the Guards pushed a few buttons on a panel in the wall, and a whirring, mechanical noise filled the room. Several horizontal steel bars then protruded from the walls, about seven feet off the ground.

"Time for pull-ups. Ten men per bar. Fifty pull-ups each. Go!" Erol barked the orders. The men wearily dragged their feet over to the bars and got in line. A Guard stood at each bar to make sure they did the allotted number of pull-ups. If the men performed them too slow or stopped to take a rest, they would be given a shock from the electrical rods. Beeker was second in line, with Jak right behind him.

"This is cruel. Can't they see how exhausted these guys are?" he whispered to Jak. Jak couldn't agree more. The fellow on their pull-up bar was gasping for breath, but did not stop his workout for fear of the Guard standing close by. The Guard held his electrical rod menacingly, ready to electrocute the prisoner if he made any mistakes.

When the man finally finished his fifty pull-ups, he dropped to the ground, unconscious. A nearby Guard came over and dragged the man roughly away by the back of his shirt through a sliding door. The door slammed shut behind them, the prisoner's fate unknown. Jak gulped, and tried to hide his fear by staring at his feet.

Beeker stepped up to the bar, and jumped the few inches to reach it. He started doing his pull-ups quickly as if it were the easiest thing in the world. The men in the line stared in awe, wondering how he could have so much energy. Beeker's arm muscles bulged every time he lifted his chin over the bar, revealing his impressive physical fitness. Jak felt a little insecure watching his older friend, but admired him nonetheless.

When Beeker was done, he hopped off the bar and took a deep bow. The prisoners in line clapped and whistled in response. As Beeker went to stand off to the side, he clapped a hand on Jak's shoulder. "Just pace yourself, kid, and you'll be fine."

Jak nodded and stepped up to the bar.

**...**

**I particularly enjoyed writing the scientist's dialogue in this chapter. (He does get a name...) It's fun to write about an eccentric, semi-crazy mad scientist. For some reason, his lines came easily to me. **

**Yes, Erol is a huge meanie and a prick. You can all feel free to punch him in the face. And yes, I _did_ try to make Beeker sound sexy. Did it work? I giggled like a schoolgirl when I wrote that little tidbit.  
**


	7. Clairvoyant Disease

**Sorry I haven't updated in a bit. Jak & Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, as they should forever and always, and not to that company whose name I shall not mention that made Lost Frontier.**

Despite the intense workout that day, Jak felt restless back in his cell. After the pull-ups, a large slat had opened up on the floor, revealing a long, murky pool. It obviously hadn't been cleaned in a long time, because the water was brownish and contained all sorts of disgusting unknown objects floating in it. The men had been ordered to swim twenty-five laps without stopping.

Jak sat in his cell, still dripping wet from the swim. His legs were aching, and his arm muscles were screaming in pain, but that wasn't what bothered him. What was beginning to make him panicked was the itching, buzzing, crawling sensation behind his eyes.

It felt like a horde of insects had flown in his ear and stuck themselves onto the back of his eyeballs. Jak could feel the constant skittering and twitching so keenly that he was certain he would go insane. It was only getting more intense by the minute. The millions of tiny little bug feet increased their tempo, as if they knew the revulsion and irritation they were causing him. Jak felt the urge to scratch at his eyes, to get rid of that wretched itch. He blinked his eyes rapidly instead, but to no avail.

Beeker noticed his plight. "What's wrong, Jak?" he asked. Jak rubbed furiously at his eyelids in response.

"Something wrong with your eyes?" Beeker asked, confused. Realization dawned on him and his face became grim. "You're feeling some aftereffects of the Dark Eco. My stomach's been feelin' pretty bad today and my hands won't stop shaking. Look," Beeker held out his hands. True to his words, they were shivering, like he was cold. Jak swallowed, afraid he would go crazy from the 'insects.'

…

Jak stood in a dark alleyway. It was so long that he couldn't see an end in sight, and the path was narrow enough to make him feel claustrophobic. The air around him was foggy, making it even harder to see what was in front of him. He took several hesitant steps forward when he heard a low rumbling sound. It was a growl, a noise that a wild animal would make.

Jak picked up his pace, anxious to get away. The growling increased in volume, and the sound of nails scraping against concrete signaled that the mysterious animal was coming closer. Jak was running now, afraid of whatever was following him. The sound the beast was making came from all directions; the fog echoed it, making it impossible to know where its true location was. Jak could only sprint, his feet making slapping noises on the ground. He felt a hand close around his ankle and he cried aloud when its claws sunk into his flesh. He tripped and fell, hard. He turned around quickly to face his attacker.

The fog lifted a little, and from the shadows a booted foot emerged. A leg came next, and Jak's eyes continued to venture upwards as the creature revealed itself. An arm appeared, clothed in a blue sleeve. The hand attached had deadly claws instead of fingernails; they were long, sharp as daggers, and black as night. What little light that shone in the alley glinted off them. Jak gulped, and scooted backwards, but then thought to himself in a moment of courage, "I can take him on."

He started to get up, determined, but the creature's foot connected with Jak's chest, pinning him. The beast leaned over Jak, its claws dangerously close to his face. Its own face slowly came into view, pushing aside the shadows that cloaked it. The face that appeared was terrifying, but familiar. It was the mysterious creature Jak had seen in the fountain in his previous nightmare.

The monster's face, contorted with anger, still contained those shining black holes for eyes. They narrowed at Jak once again, and he felt exposed from the heated glare; despite this, the malicious expression sent a chill down Jak's spine.

Jak thought to himself, "What _are _you? Why do you look like me?" He trembled with fear; the beast's strength was overpowering and flowed from him in waves, making the air thick. The beast opened its mouth, stretching it to vaguely resemble a smile, but looked more like a scowl. Jak's eyes latched onto its gleaming, jagged teeth, unable to look away.

"I am _you_," The beast answered Jak's thought, like it had read his mind. It had a deep, guttural voice.

"…What?" Jak whispered, horrified. He shook his head back and forth in disagreement. The monster leaned more of its weight on its foot, pressing into Jak's lungs. Its face loomed closer, menacing.

"It is true. This is what he'll do to you," it hissed. Purple electricity crackled in the air and Jak was thrown into a pit of darkness.

Jak's eyes flew open and he sat up so fast his head spun. He glanced around: back in the prison cell. Just another nightmare, but more disturbing than the last. The monster had seemed so real this time. Jak had felt its hot breath on his face, seen its razor-sharp teeth drip with saliva, and felt its claws just barely graze his skin. His chest still felt the weight of its foot. Jak looked over at Beeker, who was snoring in the corner. Beeker's fingers were an odd shade of purple, reminding Jak of the Dark Eco inside him. Jak sighed heavily and tried not to dwell on the experiment that would take place in two week's time. It loomed in the back of his mind, threatening to crush him.

**...**

**I had fun with this one. Nightmares have oodles of fun adjectives to use. **

**I hate when bugs land on me, so I figured it'd be hellish if I believed they somehow got inside of me, where I couldn't shoo them away. Poor Jak. They aren't actual bugs.  
**

**The name of this chapter is actually the name of a song from my favorite band. I think the lyrics go really well with the story. Go check it out if you have the time. XD  
**


	8. The Good Doctor Is In

**Sorry the update took awhile...I was on vacation! Jak and Dax don't belong to me.**

The following two weeks passed in a blur for Jak. His mind was always floating, it seemed, on the edge of a precipice between reality and a dreamlike state. In the back of his mind somewhere he reasoned that his lack of focus was actually a sort of survival mechanism; it deterred his thoughts away from the horrid chair that would inevitably receive him once again. It was easier to let his mind go blank.

Beeker was like a ghost too. He also lived in his head, constantly dwelling on his thoughts, rarely speaking to anyone. But unlike Jak, his face was perpetually tight with anxiety, always conscious of what was to come. In an attempt to prepare physically and mentally, Beeker threw his entire self into exercising. He ran harder, performed more pull-ups, and swam faster than any of the other prisoners during their exercise routines. Jak would even catch Beeker doing sit-ups and push-ups in the middle of the night, his face dripping with sweat.

Jak was envious of Beeker's resolve and determination, but he still clung to the safety of his dreamland. It was painless, and he could relive the years of his time spent in Sandover Village. The old days of he and Daxter exploring the beach and the jungle were some of the best memories he had.

The scientist visited Jak the day before the next experiment. He took Jak to a small, white room that was alive with buzzing machines. He had Jak lie down on a cold, metal table and secured his midsection with a thick belt contraption. The scientist took Jak's blood pressure and poked and prodded him. He listened intently to Jak's heartbeat through a stethoscope and scribbled down some notes on a clipboard.

Jak glanced over at the man, studying him. He was thin and elderly, with wisps of white cottony hair sticking out of the top of his head. The laminated nametag on his lab coat read 'Dr. Gryme.' The large, round spectacles that perched on the end of his long nose magnified his gray, watery eyes.

Dr. Gryme walked over to a long counter that took up half the room and rifled through its drawers. The crowded, jumbled mess on top of the counter was a confusing assortment of vials and beakers filled with strange liquids and some looked as if they contained various body parts. Jak could have sworn he saw an ear floating in an orange bottle. A cage at the end of the counter held a small, yet rabid-looking creature.

The caged animal was the color of night and its bones looked like they didn't fit quite right; they protruded from the thin body at odd angles and stretched the skin grotesquely where they stuck out. The beast's skin seemed to be sweating some kind of slimy secretion, and it was foaming at the mouth. But what struck Jak were its eyes. They were pitch-black; only the dots of light reflecting from them indicated where the creature was looking. Those were the same exact eyes he had seen on the face of the demon that had been haunting his dreams, the beast that looked like a twisted variation of himself. Dr. Gryme turned around with several medical needles gripped in his gloved hands. He saw where Jak was staring.

"Oh, that little fellow there used to be seal-dog. He gets a little shot of Dark Eco every week. He's a sweet little guy, isn't he?" the scientist cooed. The mutated seal-dog growled, spittle dripping from its jaws.

Jak gulped and turned his attention to the needles Dr. Gryme was carrying. The 'doctor' set them down on a medical tray and rubbed a section of the skin on Jak's arm with alcohol. He took one of the needles and pushed it into his patient's arm. Jak watched as his blood was drawn into the needle's containment chamber.

When it was full, Dr. Gryme removed the needle and placed it on top of one of the many blinking machines. The enormous hunk of metal seemed to swallow the needle, and the scientist pushed a few buttons. The machine made a series of beeping noises, and then a monitor attached to it started to write out data. The scientist scanned the indecipherable code of numbers and figures, and then turned quickly to look at Jak, an expression of blatant excitement on his face.

"This is incredible! Your blood readout shows that your body has completely adapted to the Dark Eco at 100 percent!"

Dr. Gryme was hopping on his toes a little as he picked through the various needles on the medical tray once again. "Now let's see which ones we'll need…this one won't do…not that one either…" he murmured feverishly to himself. "…Where is the one I need…ah! Here we go!" He selected two from the pile.

One of the needles he chose was little and harmless-looking; the other was gigantic and terrifying. Dr. Gryme injected Jak with the smaller needle first, saying, "This is anti-rejection medicine, on the off-chance your body doesn't like the next batch of Dark Eco. You can never be too careful. And this one," the scientist removed the tiny needle, and held the other, larger one proudly, "Will slow your system down. Too much adrenaline throughout your body will prove disastrous. Dark Eco doesn't take kindly to anxiety. I wanted to give you this last time, but the Baron felt it wasn't necessary to deplete it just yet."

He injected Jak with the needle, and it stung like a hot coal. Jak winced. Dr. Gryme ignored his patient's discomfort and sighed wistfully, "If only my son Vin could see the benefits of Dark Eco treatment. He's a genius, but wants to waste his talents on other, more trifling matters."

Dr. Gryme shook his head. "If only he could see you, my greatest accomplishment." Jak hated the gleam in the scientist's eye. He looked at Jak like he was nothing more than a successful science project, a trophy for everyone to admire.

**...**

**Ugh, I hate needles. I cry, or at least am on the verge of tears every time I have to get shots. How very mature of me. **

**The seal-dog is from the first Jak and Daxter game. Remember those little red Lurker dogs running around on Sentinel Beach? Yeah, the thing in the cage is supposed to be that. I didn't know what name the game developers gave them, so I made one up. They look like a cross between a dog and some weird aquatic animal to me. Plus they make those annoying braying sounds. **

**AND of course I had to throw in a reference to Jak II. VIN's GOT A DAD! A creepy one, albeit.**

**Thank you thank you THANK YOU to my lovely reviewers and story-favoriters. You guys give me confidence.  
**


	9. Monster Created

**Jak and Daxter doesn't belong to me.**

The second Dark Eco treatment was just as agonizing as before, despite the medicine Dr. Gryme had given Jak. The only thing the medicine had done was make his vision blurred and his brain sluggish. If anything, the Dark Eco that raced through his veins was more powerful, more hell-bent on destroying him.

When it was finally over, Jak leaned over the side of the chair and vomited, unable to control his heaving stomach. The Baron was revolted at the sight, and turned towards Dr. Gryme. He growled, "Is that normal? Is he ready for the next step?"

The scientist waved his hand casually through the air, as if dismissing the Baron's inquiries. "Dark Eco can be harsh on the stomach, but according to his vital signs and adaption rate I'd say we're ready to go!"

Both men suddenly turned their heads to look at Jak with evil grins. Jak waited for unconsciousness to claim him like last time, but it did not come. He was exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as if he'd just run a marathon. The twisted expressions that leered at him made him nervous. Jak glanced at Beeker who was standing nearby, waiting for his turn in the chair. Beeker looked confused, which made Jak even more anxious.

As the Baron and Dr. Gryme walked away, two Krimzon Guards released him from the restraints of the chair, and carried him away. They passed by his cell, leading him somewhere unknown. Jak began to feel panicked, but was too tired to struggle. He heard Beeker shout, "Where are you taking him?"

The Guards led Jak through a maze of long, identical corridors. Jak wanted to ask where they were taking him, but dreaded the answer. They finally reached a door, where one of the Guards pushed several numbered buttons on a side panel. The door slid open, revealing a dark room where about a dozen men in lab coats sat in front of flashing monitors.

Erol and the Baron stood at one end of the room, where a single long window took up the space of the entire wall. The two Krimzon Guards entered the room with Jak, one of them announcing, "He's here, Baron Praxis."

The Baron and several lab-coats turned to Jak, all wearing that same, sinister grin on their faces. "Come here, Jak. There's something I want to show you," the Baron motioned for him to come closer with one of his beefy fingers.

The Guards shoved him roughly towards the window. Jak could feel everybody's scrutinizing gaze on him, and he began to sweat. He had always hated to be at the center of attention. Erol smirked at his discomfort.

"Look through this window, Jak. This is what you'll be doing for me today," the Baron said as he clamped a massive hand on Jak's shoulder. The weight made Jak stagger a little.

He peered through the window into a small room. It was bathed in a sickly yellow light, and three prisoners were huddled together in the farthest corner. They all had the same expression of animal fear, their fingernails clawing at each other in desperation. Their wide eyes were riveted on a single man across the room from them. The man in question was on the short side with dark curly hair, and looked just as terrified as the men in the corner. His prison garb was dirty and torn, and Jak couldn't understand why the men had a reason to fear him; he appeared to be harmless.

One of the men in a lab coat, whom Jak guessed was a scientist like Dr. Gryme, handed a small device to the Baron. On it was a red button and a small microphone.

The Baron pushed the button, and roared into the microphone, "Russell, you will perform your duties this instant! If you do not, you will be electrocuted until you do as I say!" An intercom in the yellow room blared the Baron's threatening message, causing the dark-haired man, Russell, to startle.

"I can't! I can't do it anymore!" Russell wailed in despair, his voice muffled by the wall separating them. A large Krimzon Guard entered through a sliding panel leading into the yellow room. Russell cowered and shielded his face from him.

"No, I don't want to hurt them!" he screamed, and Jak winced at the pain in his voice. "I'm done with this! I don't want to do it anymore!" The Guard ignored his pleas and zapped him with a considerable amount of electricity. The flashes of light illuminated the dark room, and Jak winced from its brightness.

"Don't stop until he complies," the Baron ordered through the microphone. The Guard nodded and continued to torture the poor man. Russell was shouting in pain, and Jak looked away, unable to stomach the sight. The crackle of electricity roared in his ears.

Just when Jak thought that Russell could not possibly survive any longer, his cries of pain suddenly ceased. Jak looked back at the window quickly, wondering if the Guard had taken it too far and had killed him. Instead, he witnessed the Krimzon Guard leaving quickly through the sliding panel, leaving a very much alive Russell and the three other prisoners alone. The Baron grinned, a devilish glint in his eye.

"This is where the fun begins," Erol announced to Jak, the same sadistic expression on his face.

Russell sat hunched on the floor, his face hidden by shadow. His back was heaving up in down, breathing in and out in heavy gasps. Everybody in the dark room including Jak leaned forward, morbidly curious. They could hear Russell's breathing become louder and more ragged, an almost angry sound. His dirty fingernails gripped the floor, making tiny but visible dents. Jak was startled by this; the floor was solid metal.

A low growl escaped from Russell, causing the prisoners and the scientists to jump a little in surprise. The men in the corner started to whimper in fear and Jak felt a knot of dread form in his stomach. Russell slowly stood. He staggered a little, and then his face snapped up so fast that even the Baron took a step backwards in shock. He quickly regained his composure and grinned in delight.

Russell's face was dark, contorted with hate. His irises, once blue, had turned black as night. Purple veins stood out on his forehead and stretched like vines across his arms. Russell bared his sharp, almost canine teeth at the men across from him. He took a step toward the prisoners, and then another.

The prisoners began to panic, and pleaded, "Please, let us go!" The Baron's twisted smile only grew.

"You see," the Baron said to Jak, like he was confiding in a friend, "Even though Russell's not a complete Dark Warrior yet, at this rate I'll have my army sooner than you can say 'Metal Head.'"

Suddenly, Russell flew at the men, his hands outstretched. He was so lightning quick that Jak only saw a blur. Russell connected with one of men, pinning him to the ground. The other prisoners scattered, screaming for their lives. Russell's eyes were completely pitch-black now, and his skin was blue, like he had been frozen. The purple veins were impossibly bright against his flesh, pulsing with his exertion. A harsh, unearthly screech came from Russell's lips, and he raised one of his gnarled hands. His fingernails were too long and sharp to be considered human, and he began to scratch and tear savagely at his victim. Jak once again looked away quickly at the sight, a hand covering his mouth. The howls of anguish coming from the room were making his stomach churn violently. He blacked out.

**...**

**Yikes. Sorry Russell. **

**Once again, I had fun with my excessive usage of adjectives. Some may call it 'messy' or 'cluttered' (my English teacher) but I enjoy adjectives. They really get me into a story. **

**Jak gets to go in the yellow room next. Watch out.  
**


End file.
